By: James Aitchison Is life day or night? Is new blood morevaluable than old? Is there any soil more sacredthan the soul in which to plantlove and truth? Is what we leave behindmore important thanwhat we have taken? Smooth is…
By Anna Cates A faint mist, reeking of swamp rot, hovered above the boreal gulag. The remainder of charred trees rose from the muck like middle fingers raised in defiance to a long-forgotten god. Ten thousand years would pass before…
By: Carl Papa Palmer Hooked Kristy sent an email, said click this linkfilling my screen with a YouTube videoof a fish in a fishbowl for nine secondsbefore flashing to view kites crashing. Watching, fascinated, fixated, besiegedby nine second clips of…
By: Christopher Johnson Travis Monroe settled into the coach seat, which felt unutterably soft and plush and luxurious. He waved to his parents standing on the platform immediately outside the window of the train, and they waved back. His mother…
By: Abubakar Auwal ecdysis of green flowers finalist BKPW Contesthere— an image of motherland is tuned from the rhythmof our greened fur; a convolvulus one, taking flightto where we plant our names, flower the smiles of gods & metaphorsinto anything…
By Thomas M. McDade I thought I’d regret skipping a goodbye visit to the Windburn Barn so better safe than sorry I drove there. I figured a bunch of college kids would have rented it by now but there were…
By: Jack Kamm “If you are always trying to be normal, you will never know how amazing you can be.” – Maya Angelou A friend of mine, a newly enlightened Buddhist, informed me that nobody is special…that in mind and…
By: Craig Kirchner Pointe Standing in attitude modeon the head of a pin,time speeds up as it stills,seconds pass like decades,handshakes become relationships,a blade of grass, a lawn,the lawn framing the reflecting pool,at the Taj Mahal. Balanced between breaths,a wink…
By: Richard LeDue The poem I never wrote would have been detailed(margins overcrowded as homeless shelters,words lined up like they’re waitingto cash cheques in a digital age),but it’s okay because at least in the backseatthere’s a grocery store bouquet of…
By: James Aitchison On 21 September 1914, a seven-stanza poem appeared in The Times of London. The First World War had begun in July that year as a glorious Boys’ Own adventure, a chance for every young lad to see the…